TICKLED PINK
The word “Marrakech” conjures up images of a blistering hot sun, desert sand hills, palm trees and pink walled buildings. And fair enough, as this is exactly how it is. Marrakech is infectiously exotic, buzzing with old and new, clean and dusty, relaxed and chaotic. Somehow the fusion of culture, smells, architecture and general vibe are thrown into one big melting pot and boils up one helluva magic city. Ads stumbled across a great recommendation for another beautiful riad within the psychedelic medina which amplified the fantasticness of our stay in Marrakech. The upgrade to the honeymoon room probably helped. The staff were outrageously helpful, polite and courteous, the decor stunning; the breakfasts of fresh orange and pomegranate juices, pancakes, fruit and yoghurt, fresh bread also pleasing to us weary travellers.
The palm trees line the streets outside of the medina, leading to the idealism of the luxury palaces for the uber wealthy, complete with helipads and runways for their private jets, bedrooms larger than a hotel foyer, acres of lush gardens and swimming pools with silk-draped cabanas. One of our favourites was that of the late high fashion designer Yves Saint Laurent.
Marrakech is surprisingly modern, largely as a result of the droves of European tourists (mostly French) that visit for the weekend – with many a bare shoulder, lanky legs and very exposed chests. There are hundreds of bars and restaurants that look just like something out of an 1950s film with red lampshades, hand-perforated lanterns, thick velour drapes, pin-tucked booth seats and a cloud of smoke. We had some of the best nights we’ve ever had as we sipped on Caprihiñas and Mojitos listening to cool Arabic tunes as we solved the worlds’ problems in the smokey dim light. These rooftop bars are a blissful oasis and refuge from the crazy spectacle below. The best being the ones overlooking Jemaa el Fna – the busiest square in Africa… And probably most other continents with snake charmers, tricked up chimps, street dentists, gypsy women hawking kohl and love potions, henna tattooists, traditional drummers and dancers. If you have the urge to be ripped off, get here quick. Kez obviously had “sucker” written all over her face, with monkeys thrown onto her, henna tattooists all but tackling her to the ground to graffiti her hand with a needle-less syringe and doused in magic love potions that would allegedly, well, you know. Ads had a sense of humour failure as they peppered him for Kez’s unintended “purchases”, trying to shoo them away like mongrel dogs. Wife included.
Once the sun goes down, Jemaa el Fna square can only be described as a walking acid trip. And be warned of the cutest of cute little kids that ‘mind’ your unopened diet coke whilst looking at their $1 trinkets… Nek minnet; kid and drink GONE!
In case this post was a bit ambiguous; we LOVE Marrakech and hope to visit again.
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